Hell Week

This is one of those "hell weeks" when we have something going on every. single. night.

Tonight Boy is knocking on doors to sell popcorn. Which is due... today. It's only half his fault. He missed a meeting or two when I was on tour, because Jim works nights and neither of them thought to arrange his transportation to and from meetings. Then he sort of forgot that "gee, it's fall, shouldn't I be selling Boy Scout popcorn?" I looked at the calendar and saw "popcorn forms due" for today, which means he is scrambling to get some sales before his Scout meeting, where they will be untangling - er, sorting - Christmas lights for the city of Collinsville and turn in their popcorn forms.

Note: Family and friends, if you would like to buy popcorn from Ian, you can still do so online. You can go to the Trail's End website, enter ZIP code 62025 and select Ian S - Troop 1031 St. Andrew's Episcopal Edwardsville as the Scout you would like to support. If you prefer not to buy the most expensive popcorn ever but still want to support him, he is able to be hired out for manual labor, gardening, snow shoveling, odd jobs etc. in exchange for donations. About 50 percent of the money he raises through popcorn sales goes into his Scout Account, which pays for his camping trips and expenses in Scouting. Contact me for manual labor. It builds character. :)

Tomorrow night is a college fair for enterprising young Spawn who really need to bring up their biology grades, not that I am thinking of any particular young gentleman. This is, of course, simultaneous with the next meeting of the Eville Writers, so the gang will have to scribble without me until we are done with the college fair and I can go meet up with them and we can plan for Nanowrimo. I haven't yet managed to clone myself.

Wednesday night is the county board, followed by... um. Well. I got a gift certificate as a wedding present last year for a free massage from a medical spa. And it expires next week. So, that's what I'm doing. I had a chair massage at a convention last spring and I had a full massage the day of the wedding, and that's about it for the year. What, me tense?

Thursday is an orchestra outing for the Spawn, but I think that might end up being Wrist Day. As I was whining - er, discussing - on the Book of Face, it has been 17 days since I faceplanted on the sidewalk outside the Doubletree and hurt my wrists. They're still achy and sore, and this weekend I tried to carry boxes of books at the festival and they reminded me that they're still annoyed with me. My friend Gretchen pointed me toward a walk-in ortho clinic where they could evaluate my hands and make sure I haven't done anything stupid to myself. So if they're still hurting by then, I'll have to go get seen.

Friday is my day off and Jim's. That means it's our best (only) chance for Fright Fest, an annual tradition. As it is, thanks to the tour and scheduling nonsense, we have to skip the corn maze and hayride this year. I work Saturday.

Does that mean Sunday is a day of rest? ...Nah.